


The Funny Guy

by trashcatontherooftop



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, King Monkey, Marichat, Rena Rouge, Totographs Zine, dirt fic, this is very silly, zine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcatontherooftop/pseuds/trashcatontherooftop
Summary: Chat Noir and King Monkey bicker over who is the funniest miraculous user, leading both of them to do something very stupid.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	The Funny Guy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever zine fic, I hope you'll like it! For a version illustrated by the amazing Veronica Crow, you can read it in the zine itself, which you can find here:
> 
> https://totographszine.tumblr.com/post/645570117308121088/the-day-youve-been-waiting-for-has-finally
> 
> It's full of hilarious fics and gorgeous art, 25913 / 10 will read again

What do you mean, you’re the funny guy?” Chat Noir demanded halfway through patrol. “ _Paw_ -bviously _I’m_ the funny guy!”

“Paw _-bviously_?” Rena Rouge mouthed silently to Marinette.

Marinette shrugged, her nose scrunching up behind the Ladybug mask. That one was even worse than usual.

“Oooh, you must be _feline_ threatened if you think one lame pun will make you the funny guy,” King Monkey retorted, making huge air quotes around his own pun.

“If my puns are so lame, why are you stealing them?”

“I just wanted to show you how lame they are!”

The pair continued to bicker for the remainder of their patrol. In retrospect, Marinette really should have stopped them when their dispute devolved into dares.

“I dare you to make as _meow_ -ny _purr_ -ns as me- _ow_ next _paw_ -trol! Rena can keep count!”

“No, I can’t.”

“ _Paw_ -lease, Rena!”

“I can’t count suddenly ...”

“Oh yeah?” King Monkey interrupted before Rena could finish paraphrasing Maria Carey. “Well, I dare you to eat dirt!”

Chat Noir blinked, then let out a snort. “Like you’ve ever done that.”

That was when, to everyone’s horror, King Monkey bounded down to the pavement below, dabbed before the petrified old man he’d almost landed on, and yanked a hunk of grass out of the ground next to a tree. He leapt back up to the roof before them, held up the chunk of grass—roots, soil and all—and took a large bite out of it.

“Mmm, shee? Tashty,” King Monkey said, beaming through dirt-slimy teeth.

There was a moment of stunned silence before they burst out in indignant protest.

“What the heck?”

“Gross!”

“That’s not funny! That’s just _dumb_ —”

“King Monkey,” Marinette’s voice cut through the hubbub, “could you not destroy public property for dares? Please?”

“Itsh jusht grash!”

“Grass someone planted and tried to make look nice. Also, I already told you to stop eating stuff that’s not food. I can’t miraculous cure you back to health if you’re the one making yourself sick.”

“What if it was technically Chat Noir making him sick by daring him to eat dirt?” Rena asked.

“Rena!”

“What? I’m curious!”

“And I’m serious! No more eating dirt! For any of you!” Marinette glared pointedly at Chat Noir, who was eyeing the ground below.

“But, m’lady, he just—”

“ _Chat!_ ”

Chat Noir let out a long, dramatic sigh, as though she had deprived him of ice cream forever. “ _Fine_. But only because eating dirt doesn’t make you funny. Puns do.”

“You’re jusht a shcaredy cat!”

Marinette decided to keep Chat Noir and King Monkey on seperate patrols for a while. The end of this one couldn’t come fast enough, and she ran home quickly so she could detransform before Chat Noir inevitably came to complain to his civilian friend about the obnoxious newbie.

Twenty minutes later, with Tikki gorged on cookies and fast asleep in a drawer, Marinette was wondering where he was. Had he gone straight home? Was he already there, but waiting for her to come up and water the plants? He did that sometimes, especially after that time he’d walked in on her doing yoga. Marinette firmly suppressed that memory as she fetched a jug of water and headed back up the stairs. She’d bet he was there now, slouched in her deck chair, arms crossed and pouting, ready to launch into his usual dramatics as soon as she emerged.

She didn’t expect to find him staring at her wilting basil plant like it held the deepest, darkest secrets of the universe.

His suit gleamed in the setting sun. His only movements were the occasional twitch of a claw at his side or the breeze lifting a lock of golden hair, making a halo of it around his head. He looked like Icarus staring at the wings that would tempt him to his death, his expression equal parts awe and trepidation. So absorbed was he in his contemplation of the basil plant that, despite his heightened senses, he hadn’t heard Marinette open the skylight.

Chat Noir’s brow puckered beneath the mask, his eyes narrowing the way they did when a villain had angered him. Marinette, still standing on her bed and peeking through the open skylight, reflected that she should probably stop him, or at least make her presence known. But some part of her wanted to see if he was really going to do what she thought he was going to do.

Besides, she wasn’t Ladybug right now. And a little potting soil wouldn’t hurt him, right?

She held her breath and watched, wide eyed, as he dipped a claw into the plant pot, being careful not to disturb the leaves, and dug up a dry clump of soil, spooning it into his other palm when it began to crumble. He held the small pile of dirt in his hand for another few seconds, frowning at it. Then he tipped his head back and shoved it into his mouth.

Marinette watched his expression morph from reckless determination through increasing levels of disgust, before settling firmly on regret.

“Blegh,” he said quietly, sticking out his blackened tongue.

This was too much for Marinette. Laughter exploded from her chest.

Chat Noir spun to face her.

“I-I’m not eating dirt!” he stammered, but Marinette was already clutching the edge of the skylight with tears in her eyes, wheezing. After waiting a few moments for her to catch her breath—which she didn’t—he shuffled towards her, muttering, “It’s not _that_ funny.”

“I’m sor—” Marinette gasped in a vain attempt to regain her composure. “I can’t—you just—why— _why?_ ”

Chat Noir sank down next to her, dangling his legs over the edge of the skylight with a heavy sigh. “Superhero stuff. You wouldn’t get it,” he replied melodramatically.

Marinette snickered. “Yeah, you—you looked pretty intense there,” she spluttered, mirth bubbling behind every word. “Was that some kind of ritual, for the miraculouses or something?”

Chat Noir pouted sullenly, and she cracked up again.

“You don’t believe me,” he grumbled.

“No,” Marinette gasped between giggles, “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

He waited until she’d calmed down somewhat, which took a while. It didn’t help that he kept finding tiny stones in his teeth and would grimace as he pushed them out with his tongue.

“Hey, why don’t you ever laugh that much at my puns?”

Marinette blew out her eighth calming breath, ignoring the remaining spasms of her diaphragm, and looked up at him. There was a dark smear near the edge of his mouth which nearly set her off again, but the drooping ears and the genuine sadness in his huge green eyes startled her into sobriety. She racked her brain for a sincere reply that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

“Ah ... well, I guess I’m just not into puns?”

To her dismay, his shoulders slumped, and his ears drooped even more as he stared sadly at his knees.

“I am funny, though, aren’t I?” he asked, not looking funny at all any more. “Out of all the miraculous holders, you’d say I’m the funny one, right?”

Marinette’s heart squeezed. Momentarily forgetting she wasn’t Ladybug right now, she cupped his face and smiled up at him.

“Of course you are,” she soothed. “Who else would it be?”

His eyes widened slightly. “I’m funnier than King Monkey?” he asked in a small voice.

“ _Way_ funnier than King Monkey,” she confirmed, wiping the smear of dirt from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “See, people would expect King Monkey to eat dirt.

Nobody would even laugh at that because that’s just the kind of random thing he does. Seeing _you_ do it was hilarious, though,” she added, lips quirking up in a grin.

He blew a short laugh through his nose, and his eyes went from hopeful to infinitely tender. It occurred to Marinette that she was not, in fact, Ladybug right now, and that feeling him smile beneath the bare skin of her palms was quite different from what she was used to. Before she could wonder at the sudden stumble of her heart, however, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her feet clear off the mattress as he nuzzled her hair.

“You’re the best, Marinette,” he murmured next to her temple. “I knew I could count on you to cheer me up.”

“Any time,” she squeaked as he set her down again. She hoped he’d take the warmth on her cheeks to be the reflection of the sunset on her skin. Casting about for a diversion, she cleared her throat and added, “Though if you want my opinion on who’s the funniest out of all the miraculous users, I think Rena Rouge could give you a run for your money.”

Chat Noir gaped at her.

“ _Rena?_ But all she does is quote memes!”

“With perfect timing!” Marinette argued. “See, that’s your main issue. You have terrible timing. Even if Rena’s jokes are just memes, it’s the context in which she says them that counts.”

Chat Noir twisted his mouth critically and folded his arms, muttering something about the Ladyblogger and special treatment, which Marinette pretended not to hear.

“I can’t believe you think Rena is funnier than me,” he said out loud. “Betrayer.”

“I didn’t say that! I just said she could compete with you!”

“And my timing is _purr_ -fect, thank you very much.”

“Actually, I think it was my timing that was perfect this time.” Marinette smirked. “I’m the one who walked in on you eating dirt.”

“I don’t even know why you found that so funny. You don’t even know why I did it!” He grimaced as he found another stone in his teeth. “Hey, could I have a glass of water, please? Dirt is not tasty.”

Marinette cracked up again.

“Of course, funny cat.”


End file.
